I have danced in public once in my life. For my wedding. Took a lesson.
But I secretly dance every day, though I guess it’s no longer a secret.
For the dogs, and the setting shadow against the back wall.
All attempted rhythms and contorted shapes, but my Byrne is spot on.
They know: if sound and fury finds a backbeat, it signifies everything.
And sometimes, when the song ends and the room cools again,
I stand still in the quiet. One breath, two, and wait to see if the house will dance back.
Most nights it doesn’t. But some evenings, the dogs catch it: their paws thump the floor, their tails swing in time, and the room moves again, alive in its own applause.